


en garde

by gly13



Series: angsty rich boys [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Fencing, M/M, Still in the enemies part of enemies to lovers, duel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:33:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23793172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gly13/pseuds/gly13
Summary: “Ready, Scholarship?” Jaemin called, a teasing lilt to his voice that had Renjun's blood run hot.“En garde, Rich Kid.”A 'rich kid, asshole (paint me as a villain)' deleted scene
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin
Series: angsty rich boys [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586260
Comments: 25
Kudos: 273





	en garde

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this scene is a spin-off of my other fic [rich kid, asshole (paint me as a villain)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21773824/chapters/51953242) so i would suggest reading that first if you haven't already though i guess this could make sense as a stand-alone if you really wanted it to
> 
> this scene was in the original outline but i cut it out so i could get it done before the deadline. it would have gone in chapter two after renjun misses lacrosse training and before the practice decathlon so feel free to read it as a sort of insert
> 
> it's not very long but it was just meant to be a little scene. i was kinda sad i never got to write this and i've missed my angsty rich boys, so here it is now!! enjoy <3
> 
> (btw this scene isn't the only reason for this being a series; i'm not quite done with chaucer academy yet heh)

“Does stuff like this happen often here?” Renjun asked, trailing behind Yangyang on their way to the sports hall.

Yangyang shrugged. “Every now and then.”

Renjun rolled his eyes at the entire school but kept following Yangyang. They had received an email that morning on their school accounts, telling all year twelve students to go to the hall at an allotted time but with no explanation as to why. Renjun and Yangyang had been put in the last group of the day and it was their turn now, having been kept questioning and curious for hours.

They filed into the hall and Renjun saw that the floor was covered in regular rows of rectangular blue mats. There were thin metal objects Renjun recognised as fencing foils lying dormant along the sides of the walls, and next to them were masks and other fencing equipment Renjun was sure they’d raided from the club room.

He smiled; he was starting to like where this was going.

They gathered together at the front of the hall as they waited for the rest of the students to arrive. Last to enter, of course, was Jaemin, flanked by Donghyuck and Jeno. He sauntered in, cocky grin on his face and Renjun looked away before he could grow angry.

“Students,” Headmaster Moon called for their attention and Renjun was glad to give it to him. “Today, we have a very special treat for you all. World-class, Olympic-winning fencer and our own alumnus Jackson Wang has agreed, most generously, to give you a fencing master class.”

He gestured to his side, and Renjun had to stand on his tip-toes to get a look of the man who entered from the back door of the hall, smiling bright enough to drive the sun out of business and dressed in pristine, white fencing gear.

The room erupted into applause at the celebrity in their midst and Renjun joined in, a little star-struck. Meeting celebrities wasn’t anything uncommon to him, but being up close and personal with the likes of Jackson Wang was bound to make anyone drop their jaw.

“Hi guys,” Jackson said, so energetic it was a little intimidating, “I’m really happy to be back here. Without this place, I might have never discovered my passion for fencing so I’m excited to see if we have any budding young fencers among us today!”

“You’re the last group of the day,” Headmaster Moon said, his neutral tone a sharp contrast to Jackson’s animated one, “and Jackson is on a bit of a tight schedule, so you won’t have time to change into your PE kits but as long as you remove your blazers and ties I am sure you will survive. Good luck, year twelve.”

Renjun and Yangyang, along with their peers, upon Jackson’s instruction, moved off to the side to take off their blazers and grab a mask and padding.

“Excited, Injun?” Yangyang nudged Renjun’s arm with his own as they rolled up their sleeves.

Renjun smiled back at him and clicked his fingers. “Beyond.”

They went through a few simple drills. Backwards and forwards, the correct posture, and all that. Renjun had fenced maybe a dozen times back home, mainly against Sicheng. But Sicheng was ruthless with it, and that made this seem a little dull and tedious.

Still, it was fun to watch Yangyang pretend to be a pirate or musketeer whenever Jackson wasn’t looking, and even funnier when he got caught and turned bright red as he apologised.

“Okay!” Jackson said, and Renjun turned away from where Yangyang was pretending to conduct an orchestra with his foil to pay attention. “Now that I think you guys have got the basics down, I think we can go into some of the more fun things. Duels!”

Renjun’s face split into a grin. Finally.

“Everyone line up on opposite sides of a mat!”

Renjun walked away from Yangyang, intending to stand at the other end of the mat to him when he walked straight into another student and dropped his mask. He muttered out an apology before he picked it back up with a huff and looked up to find only one space free. He stood on the edge of the mat, and it didn’t take long for him to figure out why the space had been empty.

Renjun, by what he could only imagine was some wondrous hand of fate, found himself in front of Jaemin.

Jaemin’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and his shirt was still, inexplicably, tucked perfectly into his trousers. His hair was held out of his face by a thin layer of gel and had somehow remained perfectly styled despite all the activity they’d just been doing.

Renjun lifted his rapier, held it out straight in front of him and caught only a glimpse of that signature smirk on Jaemin's face before they slipped their masks on near simultaneously.

And maybe it was the sensation of being behind a mask, and so in his own head, but Renjun was sure that the rest of the hall had grown silent, and had abandoned their own mats to form an audience on either side of him and Jaemin.

He adjusted his grip, made sure it was light and flexible, and moved to stand on the balls of his feet.

“Ready, Scholarship?” Jaemin called, with a teasing lilt to his voice that made Renjun's blood run hot.

And Renjun was briefly reminded of the fencing trophies engraved with Jaemin’s name in the entrance hall of the school, and the badges sewn into Jaemin’s blazer but he shook the thoughts from his head.

He took his stance.

“En garde, Rich Kid.”

A voice ‒ maybe Jackson, maybe someone else; it didn’t matter ‒ called out then. “Best of three.” A pause. “Allez!”

Jaemin moved so quickly up the mat ‒ feet a blur in Renjun’s vision through his mask ‒ that Renjun had barely registered they were starting when a whistle was blown, ear-splitting and shrill, and the tip of Jaemin’s foil was prodding at his chest.

Renjun could only imagine the smug look on Jaemin’s face as the crowd around them cheered. He scowled, glad that Jaemin couldn’t see him.

Renjun clicked his neck to the side and bent his knees slightly, shifting his weight and narrowing his eyes. Jaemin walked back to the other end of the mat and Renjun took the time to focus on his breathing, calming his heart rate. In and out. In and out.

When Jackson spoke again, Renjun was ready for it.

He darted forwards and then backwards all in the same breath, parrying Jaemin’s lunge. He used the split-second Jaemin was off-balance to press forwards, his foil bending as it made contact with the padding on Jaemin’s chest.

The whistle sounded again.

“Got too cocky, Na,” Renjun mocked, still not removing his foil as more clapping and cheers filled the hall.

“Not over yet, Wei,” Jaemin gritted out. He turned on his heel, pushing Renjun’s foil down as he did so.

They took their places opposite each other for the final time.

“Matchpoint,” he taunted.

Jaemin just growled in response and Renjun smirked even though he knew Jaemin couldn’t see it.

“Allez!”

Jaemin was instantly on the offensive, and Renjun dodged backwards with his entire body, his knee almost giving out on his haste. But Jaemin didn’t let up, and instead lunged at him with another attack a mere second later.

This time, though, Renjun was ready. He thrust his foil against Jaemin’s, relishing in the loud  _ clang _ that resounded through the hall. Jaemin jerked backwards under the force of the blow, and in the few moments he took to regain his balance, Renjun was up and stable and ready again.

They both moved forwards at the same time, their foils coming up at the last second to form an X in the air to avoid a collision. Renjun could feel sweat trickle down from his forehead as they kept contact; a battle of strength. They both pushed until they were forced apart. Renjun eyed Jaemin’s footwork for a moment, trying to figure out a pattern.

That was a mistake.

Jaemin caught his lapse of attention and lunged, extending himself as far he could, aiming directly for Renjun’s heart. Renjun startled, and forced his hand to move, stabbing forwards blindly.

The whistle blew.

The adrenaline in Renjun’s brain took a moment to clear but when he finally broke through it, he realised the position he was in. Jaemin’s foil was pressed against the padding over his chest, pushing an indent into the soft material.

And Renjun’s own foil was touching Jaemin’s chest.

Everything was very still, and it felt as though the whole hall was holding their breath.

“Point Na!”

Cheering broke through the silence. Renjun’s shoulders sagged as Jaemin withdrew backwards, taking his mask off just in time for Renjun to meet his eyes and see pomposity and mocking and glee there before Jeno and Donghyuck were enveloping him in a hug. Renjun removed his own mask and turned away, panting. He felt Yangyang’s arm settle over his shoulders.

“You did well, Injunnie,” Yangyang said into his ear. “Seriously. Jaemin’s the school’s champion fencer; he definitely had more to lose there than you, and you gave him a really good run for his money.”

Renjun let out a heavy breath and rolled his shoulder back. “It’s fine,” he said. “We’ve got the practice decathlon tomorrow and we’re gonna destroy them.”

He was seething, but only a little. It was fine.

Yangyang grinned and clapped him on the back. “That’s the spirit, Injun.”

Renjun looked back across the hall and caught Jaemin’s eye again. He glared at him.

_ You’re going down, Rich Kid, _ he mouthed.

Jaemin cackled.  _ You wish, Scholarship. _

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading !! if you enjoyed please leave a kudos and a comment; they're what keeps me writing <3
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/whatisanult)  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/whatisanult)


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